sleep?
“"That’'s nice of you, Clay,”" Grace said sincerely. “"Praying for your friend.”"
“"Yeah. My dad’'s been praying for Forrest’'s parents to lighten up. He thinks they’'re turning him into a hypochondriac.”"
“"That’'s a big word,”" she said.
Clay took a good, healthy handful of gooey buttery goodness. Two kernels fluttered to the floor and Gus slid off the couch like a wet sandbag, Hoovering them up. Who needed to get the vacuum cleaner fixed?
She grabbed the remote. Let there be AstronautFarmer. She settled in and glanced over at Clay, who looked pensive.
“"She says Forrest is allergic to everything,”" he continued as the previews began. “"He has to bring special food. My dad says it’'s probably a bunch of hooey.”"
Grace cocked her head. “"What do you think?”"
“"Well, they’'re so protective of him,”" he mused.
“"Maybe because he’'s got some kind of condition.”"
“"Or maybe they’'re just worried that he might get hurt,”" Clay said. “"He had an older brother who died.”"
Grace was startled. That was new information; Clay had never mentioned any Catlett siblings before, deceased or otherwise.
“"So maybe they’'re afraid he’'ll die, too,”" he explained.
“"That makes sense, in a sad kind of way,”" she said. Maybe she herself was a little neurotic about Clay.
“"But it’'s hard to get hurt at rocket club.”" He frowned at the screen. “"These previews are really lame. Do you think the movie’'s going to be lame?”"
“"If it is, we’'ll watch something else.”" She could hope. She plucked up a piece of popcorn and aimed it at his nose. Bull’'s-eye. “"And we have liftoff,”" she said.
“"It’'s in the air.”" He threw a piece of popcorn back at her.
“"Oh, my God, meteor shower!”" She picked up a handful and showered him with it. Laughing shrilly, he leaped to his feet, reaching for the bag as Grace seized it, hurtled herself up and over the couch, and rolled to a crouch with the popcorn bag against her chest like a football. Clay rounded the end of the sofa and headed for her as she feinted left, right, working out an escape route while Clay wobbled with laugher, which slowed him down. Gus stretched up and flopped his head on the top of the sofa, watching with one eye closed, which was as enthusiastic as he was going to get.
Clay was almost on her when Grace turned her head toward the TV and shouted, “"Oh, my God!”" As she expected, Clay looked, and she lifted the bag over his head and showered him with popcorn.
“"Falling stars!”" she yelled.
“"Aunt Grace! Aunt Grace!”" Clay blustered, laughing. He slid to the floor, covered with popcorn; Grace did a war dance around him, whooping like a victorious brave. Gus got back down off the couch and approached, chomping his way to the two shrieking humans.
“"I’'m covered in butter!”" Clay protested.
“"I’'ve got a shower,”" she reminded him. “"And a washing machine.”" She dove over the couch, grabbed the salt, and dumped some over his head.
“"No, no!”" He laughed, flailing at her, obviously not really wanting to stop her. She added one more shake, then one for good luck over her shoulder.
“"Just be glad we weren’'t eating something you don’'t like,”" she told him. “"Like your grandma’'s split-pea soup.”"
He grimaced. “"Yuck.”"
“"My point exactly.”"
He wiped his face with the edge of his T-shirt, eyes twinkling, some nice high color in those apple cheeks. “"This is the kind of stuff Forrest never gets to do.”"
“"We should invite him over,”" Grace suggested. “"Show him how to walk on the wild side. With limits, of course. We’'ll only cover him in stuff he’'s not allergic to.”"
“"Wow, could we? That’'d be great.”" Clay plucked a piece of popcorn out of her hair. “"He’'d have a blast.”"
She smiled, wondering if Forrest’'s mom and dad could ever be persuaded to say yes. Doug might be able to
“"That’'s nice of you, Clay,”" Grace said sincerely. “"Praying for your friend.”"
“"Yeah. My dad’'s been praying for Forrest’'s parents to lighten up. He thinks they’'re turning him into a hypochondriac.”"
“"That’'s a big word,”" she said.
Clay took a good, healthy handful of gooey buttery goodness. Two kernels fluttered to the floor and Gus slid off the couch like a wet sandbag, Hoovering them up. Who needed to get the vacuum cleaner fixed?
She grabbed the remote. Let there be AstronautFarmer. She settled in and glanced over at Clay, who looked pensive.
“"She says Forrest is allergic to everything,”" he continued as the previews began. “"He has to bring special food. My dad says it’'s probably a bunch of hooey.”"
Grace cocked her head. “"What do you think?”"
“"Well, they’'re so protective of him,”" he mused.
“"Maybe because he’'s got some kind of condition.”"
“"Or maybe they’'re just worried that he might get hurt,”" Clay said. “"He had an older brother who died.”"
Grace was startled. That was new information; Clay had never mentioned any Catlett siblings before, deceased or otherwise.
“"So maybe they’'re afraid he’'ll die, too,”" he explained.
“"That makes sense, in a sad kind of way,”" she said. Maybe she herself was a little neurotic about Clay.
“"But it’'s hard to get hurt at rocket club.”" He frowned at the screen. “"These previews are really lame. Do you think the movie’'s going to be lame?”"
“"If it is, we’'ll watch something else.”" She could hope. She plucked up a piece of popcorn and aimed it at his nose. Bull’'s-eye. “"And we have liftoff,”" she said.
“"It’'s in the air.”" He threw a piece of popcorn back at her.
“"Oh, my God, meteor shower!”" She picked up a handful and showered him with it. Laughing shrilly, he leaped to his feet, reaching for the bag as Grace seized it, hurtled herself up and over the couch, and rolled to a crouch with the popcorn bag against her chest like a football. Clay rounded the end of the sofa and headed for her as she feinted left, right, working out an escape route while Clay wobbled with laugher, which slowed him down. Gus stretched up and flopped his head on the top of the sofa, watching with one eye closed, which was as enthusiastic as he was going to get.
Clay was almost on her when Grace turned her head toward the TV and shouted, “"Oh, my God!”" As she expected, Clay looked, and she lifted the bag over his head and showered him with popcorn.
“"Falling stars!”" she yelled.
“"Aunt Grace! Aunt Grace!”" Clay blustered, laughing. He slid to the floor, covered with popcorn; Grace did a war dance around him, whooping like a victorious brave. Gus got back down off the couch and approached, chomping his way to the two shrieking humans.
“"I’'m covered in butter!”" Clay protested.
“"I’'ve got a shower,”" she reminded him. “"And a washing machine.”" She dove over the couch, grabbed the salt, and dumped some over his head.
“"No, no!”" He laughed, flailing at her, obviously not really wanting to stop her. She added one more shake, then one for good luck over her shoulder.
“"Just be glad we weren’'t eating something you don’'t like,”" she told him. “"Like your grandma’'s split-pea soup.”"
He grimaced. “"Yuck.”"
“"My point exactly.”"
He wiped his face with the edge of his T-shirt, eyes twinkling, some nice high color in those apple cheeks. “"This is the kind of stuff Forrest never gets to do.”"
“"We should invite him over,”" Grace suggested. “"Show him how to walk on the wild side. With limits, of course. We’'ll only cover him in stuff he’'s not allergic to.”"
“"Wow, could we? That’'d be great.”" Clay plucked a piece of popcorn out of her hair. “"He’'d have a blast.”"
She smiled, wondering if Forrest’'s mom and dad could ever be persuaded to say yes. Doug might be able to
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